


King of Wishful Thinking

by margarks



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pretty Woman Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-12 23:56:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4499745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/margarks/pseuds/margarks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrote this back in 2006. Posting old fics to AO3.</p><p>Based on the movie Pretty Woman, but with an SGA twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally had a lot of notes about things I mentioned in this fic with links to places you could see what I was talking about, like what Bugatti Veyron is, etc. But I have found that most of the links are broken now 9 years later, lol. So, I'm not going to repost those.
> 
> I do want to thank [Ladycat777](http://ladycat777.livejournal.com/) for betaing this thing for me way back when! You are a lifesaver!

Rodney hated crowds. He especially hated crowds at parties. As this particular party was filled to capacity with military morons, Rodney wanted nothing more than to escape. He looked frantically around for Elizabeth as he stuffed the last of the tiny little egg rolls he'd gotten from the buffet table into his mouth. He wouldn't normally take the chance, but since Elizabeth had organized the party he was sure she would've insisted on citrus free appetizers.

“Well, if it isn't Dr. McKay."

Rodney grimaced. “Kavanagh."

“That's _Doctor_ Kavanagh," he said, making Rodney smirk. “And this is Melanie." Kavanagh smiled his greasy, patently insincere smile.

Rodney had to admit that she was hot. Blond, curvy, and obviously an idiot if she was dating Kavanaugh. He nodded a greeting at her.

“So. Where's your date, Dr. McKay?"

Rodney tried to think up a suitable lie, but decided against it at the last minute. He was crap at lying and he knew it. “I came alone." What was wrong with that, anyway? Plenty of people probably came without dates. This was a mostly business function anyway.

“Of course, you did." Kavanagh's voice dripped with condescension.

Rodney decided he'd had enough. “If you'll excuse me," he said, not waiting for a reply before brushing past them. Elizabeth was still no where to be seen, but Rodney wasn't in the mood to wade through the crowd for her. This was her party and she was the diplomat. Besides, she probably had a better chance of getting the grants and the authorization she needed without him there. 

He pushed his way toward the front door, snapping his fingers impatiently until the valet noticed and took his ticket.

“I'm sorry, it looks like your cars blocked in."

“Blocked in? Blocked in? What kind of valet are you? Don't you know how to park cars? Is it that hard to comprehend that some people might want to leave earlier than others?" Rodney was fuming. His day was going from mildly annoying to ridiculously crappy. His mind was already working triple time to find a way out of this godforsaken hell. “Where's Dr. Weir's car?"

“Dr. Weir's?"

“Yes." Rodney rolled his eyes. “You know, the woman who's house this is? The woman who's paying your obviously undeserved paychecks?"

“Uh." The valet, who looked no more than fifteen years old, blushed. “It's right there."

Rodney sighed in relief when he spotted Elizabeth's car, safely tucked far away from the visitors' cars. “Give me the keys."

“Excuse me?"

“The keys!" Rodney snapped. “Give me Elizabeth's keys."

“Sir, we can't do that."

“You can and you will. Believe me, Elizabeth would prefer that to my _killing_ you." Rodney tried to cow the kid with his death glare, but unlike his usual minions, the teenager remained unfazed. Sighing the sigh of someone extremely put upon, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Elizabeth. She answered on the first ring. “Tell this juvenile delinquent to give me your keys."

“What?"

“Your. Keys," he enunciated very slowly. “I'm getting out of here before I kill somebody with my brain."

“Rodney," she said, her voice incredibly placating. “It's not that bad."

“Oh, _please_. Elizabeth, you're the diplomat. You don't need me here. They already know what their money's going to. You don't need me to explain that. In fact, if I stay here any longer I think you might regret ever inviting me at all!"

“All right, Rodney. But what's wrong with your car?"

“These morons buried it. It'll take hours to get it out. And I don't have hours to waste away! I'm hypoglycemic, you know! I'll probably pass out before the valet even gets to the car behind the car behind the car that's behind mine."

“Rodney." Rodney could practically _hear_ Elizabeth rolling her eyes..

He made himself take a deep breath. “I promise to take good care of it."

“Simon will _kill_ me if you put so much as a scratch on that car."

“Yes, yes. I'll treat it like the model of engineering perfection it is."

Elizabeth sighed, and Rodney knew he'd won. He handed the phone to the valet. Rodney didn't relax until the engine was humming beneath the hood and he shifted into first.

He wasn't all that fond of driving, but he had to admit that the vehicle was extremely well built. He made his way down the winding road Elizabeth's house was built on, trying to find his way back to the hotel. Forty-five minutes later and Rodney was loudly cursing every San Francisco city engineer that ever lived. He was also hopelessly lost.

And he was about to run out of gas.

Great.

He pulled over and opened the glove compartment checking for a map or something useful. He found a Powerbar, hummed happily, and ripped open the package. Before he could take the first bite someone was knocking on the passenger side window.

“Yes, what do you want?" Rodney asked impatiently after rolling down the window.

“Hi."

Rodney squinted into the darkness. The man's slow drawl brought him up short. He wasn't sure why.

“Is there something you wanted?"

“Just checking to see if there was something _you_ wanted." The stranger bent forward, sticking his head partially in the window. His eyes were a strange mix of green and brown, and his hair was attractively mussed. He smiled at Rodney, a sort of half-smile that made Rodney's own lips curve upward without conscious thought.

“Something I wanted?"

The stranger rolled his eyes. Rodney felt vaguely offended.

“Yes, you know... “ he let the words trail off, but when Rodney didn't fill the blank he went on. “Like a date?"

Rodney's whole face flushed. “No! Oh my god! What kind of guy do you think I am?"

“Oh," The stranger blinked. To Rodney's annoyance, it made him look utterly adorable. “Sorry. If you keep going you might find someone more your taste a few blocks down."

“What?" Rodney sputtered. “No! I mean, you're perfectly to my taste." He flushed again, wishing he could just close his eyes and bang his head against the steering wheel. “What I _mean_ is that I'm not the kind of guy who pays for dates!"

“Oh, well. You should probably be more careful about where you park your car, then." The stranger gestured at the rest of the street, clearly occupied by a string of loose limbed, young men.

Rodney exhaled a frustrated breath. “Look, I'm lost. I was just stopping to see if I could find a map in the glove box or something."

“Need directions?"

“Do you honestly expect me to believe you know where the W hotel is?" Rodney wasn't a snob but he doubted this gigolo had ever stayed at a hotel that didn't charge per hour.

“Actually, yeah. I _live_ in this city, remember? I pretty much know where all the tourist spots are and the W is smack dab in the middle."

“Oh. Right. Well, then, how do I get there?"

“I'll show you if you let me drive." The stranger reached in and caressed the dash, and Rodney tried not to let the sight affect him. “This is an amazingly sweet ride. Rental?"

“A friend's."

“Must be some friend. This is the fastest car in existence, did you know that? It can go upwards of 250 mph." Those hazel eyes were dilating, and Rodney imagined it was close to the look the stranger might get while, uh, performing his duties.

“I don't even know your name." Rodney couldn't seriously entertain the idea of letting a complete stranger drive Elizabeth's car.

“What do you want it to be?" 

The smile the gigolo gave him made Rodney's pulse kick up a notch. 

Not liking his reaction, Rodney gave him his death glare and then felt something in his stomach flutter when the stranger chuckled. 

“John. It's John."

“Yeah, right. Could you get anymore generic? If you don't want to tell me, then don't," Rodney said, pushing open his door and stepping out. “And I guess I don't really have a choice, do I? If I ever want to see my hotel again, it's either let you drive or ask some other gigolo for directions."

John, if that was even his name, threw back his head and laughed.

~~

“This is an amazing piece of machinery." John couldn't believe he was behind the wheel of a Bugatti Veyron. Whoever this guy was, he and his friends must make the big bucks. “Do you mind if... “ John knew it was probably useless to ask, but when would he get another chance like this? Driving a car like this was almost like flying. If you did it right, anyway. “Mind if we take a spin first? I mean, before I take you to the hotel? I'd love to open her up, see what she can really do." John patted the dash.

“Are you kidding me? You want my permission to try to kill me?" The guy was clinging to the seatbelt strap that rested against his chest.

“I won't kill you. I'm a very safe driver."

“Right, I'm sure all hookers go through a driver's ed safety course together," the guy snapped and the grin faded from John's lips.

Oh, yeah. What the hell was he thinking? He wasn't Major John Sheppard anymore. He hadn't been for years. He didn't inspire confidence or trust. Why the hell did he think a perfect stranger would let him drive this amazing car anywhere but the few blocks it'd take to get him back to his hotel?

“Forget it. Sorry." John shifted into gear and pulled out into traffic. San Francisco streets weren't exactly designed for fast cars, so John chugged along at about thirty miles an hour behind a slew of other people trying to get home or to Fisherman's Wharf or Ghiradelli Square. “So, you never told me your name."

The guy sort of puffed up beside him, and John had to fight back another grin. “Doctor Rodney McKay."

“Doctor, huh? You a surgeon or something?" John figured he had to be more than just a general practitioner to be that arrogant.

“Oh for the love of... Not that kind of doctor! I'm an astrophysicist."

“Wow." John was impressed. They drove in silence for a block or two, Rodney fidgeting restlessly beside him.

“So, uhm, how long, uh, how long have you lived in San Francisco?" Rodney asked.

John shrugged. “A little over two years."

Rodney nodded. “I'm only here for a week."

“A week, huh? Lots of stuff to see in a week." John was good at making small talk, even if it had been awhile since anyone had required it of him. “Are you in town on business or pleasure?"

Rodney snorted. “Business."

“A convention or something?"

“Or something." Rodney sighed, finally relaxing a little as he began to talk about himself. “My boss is trying to raise funds for an expedition. Not just funds, but government approval. Which I'm not sure if you know, but isn't easy to get in this godforsaken country of yours."

The corner of John's lip quirked in amusement. “No, I get you."

“I mean, it's ridiculous how long it takes you people to even make a decision!" Rodney huffed, and John felt the quirk turn into a full blown smile as they pulled up to the front of the W hotel.

“Well, here we are," John said, nodding a greeting at the valet opening his door. “I guess I'll see you later then." he called as he headed back down the sidewalk away from the hotel.

“Wait!" Rodney caught up to him, breathing heavily. “How are you going to get back?"

“I figured I'd just walk. It's only about 3 miles down the road." John wasn't going to waste any time thinking about how smooth a ride the Veyron had been or how good it had felt behind the wheel.

“Three miles? What are you crazy?" Rodney made it sound as if John had proposed a marathon run through the Sahara.

He cocked an eyebrow at Rodney and waited.

“Uh, maybe I can give you some cab fare? You know, for getting me back to the hotel. Or... uh." Rodney hesitated, looking around before leaning in close. “How much do you charge for, you know, the night?" Rodney stage whispered.

John grinned. It was hard not to like this guy. “For the whole night?" 

Rodney nodded, his cheeks rosy.

“$1,500."

“What?! That's highway robbery!" Rodney shouted, then immediately ducked his head and looked around. “I'll give you $750."

John glanced up and down at the ornate building that housed the W hotel. He knew full well Rodney could afford a thousand and more. “$1,000."

“Done."

John was smiling as he followed Rodney through the lobby.


	2. Chapter 2

“Here." Rodney threw his trench coat over John's shoulders. It wasn't that John looked particularly like a hooker, not really. It was just that his jeans were torn, the cuffs tattered and his shirt had been washed so thin it was almost transparent in certain spots.

John raised an amused eyebrow but didn't make any verbal comments, just shrugged the coat on.

To John's credit, he didn't appear overwhelmed by the decor or the obviously wealthy patrons lounging in the XYZ bar they passed along the way to the elevators. In fact, Rodney was more nervous than John. He'd never done anything like this before. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it now.

He hurried John into the elevator, jumping nervously when the bell dinged as the doors began to close. Before they could shut completely, John stuck his hand out, triggering the sensors.

“Maybe we should get a drink first. You seem... kind of like you could use one."

“What? Oh." Rodney considered for a moment then nodded. “Yes, good idea. Great idea. Perhaps your intelligence level isn't quite as low as I originally thought."

“Thanks." John's grin was lazy and did weird things to Rodney's stomach.

They sat at the bar, Rodney ordered a Molson and John surprised Rodney by doing the same. “Have you even ever had a Molson before?"

John shrugged, completely at ease. “No. But, I figure a guy like you wouldn't order anything but the best."

Rodney puffed up a bit. “Well, yes, obviously you're correct about that." 

John's eyes had crinkles around the corners, like he'd spent most of his life amused and smiling. His chin was shadowed with just a light dusting of stubble, and Rodney wondered how it would feel rasping against his skin. He blinked, realized he was staring, blushed and began to babble. “Are you hungry? You're probably hungry. Maybe we should order an appetizer? Chicken wings? Chips?" John's mouth curved up into that half-smile again, and Rodney sucked in a breath to stop himself from saying anymore.

“Chocolate covered strawberries?"

“Strawberries give me a rash," Rodney said blankly, even though his traitorous brain was stuck on the image of John sucking the chocolate off the tip of a strawberry.

John laughed. “Of course, they do."

“I like chocolate though," Rodney offered. “A lot."

“Maybe we can ask Chuck for some chocolate syrup to take up with us." John suggested his voice low and intimate. Jesus. Rodney got so hard so fast he nearly fell off his stool.

“Chuck?" Rodney's voice rose as he shifted on his seat.

“The bartender?" John looked faintly puzzled.

“How do you know the bartender's name?" Rodney knew there was no way John had been to the XYZ bar before.

“Uh, he told us. Remember? When he took our order and gave us our beers?" John took a lazy, too sexy, sip of his. “He smiled at us. We made small talk until... you weren't paying any attention at all, were you?"

Even though John's tone was more amused patience than accusation, Rodney felt guilty. Then he got annoyed because he was _paying_ this guy to entertain him, not the other way around. So, there was nothing to feel guilty about. There wasn’t.

“Sorry," Rodney's stupid mouth said.

John grinned and leaned forward, his warm hand landing high on Rodney's thigh. “Hey, no sweat. I just wanted you to loosen up a bit. You seemed a little uptight in the lobby." John's hand slid up and down ever so slowly, and Rodney had to bite back a groan. “Ready to go upstairs now?"

Rodney nodded and somehow found himself following John to the elevators instead of the other way around.

~~

John hadn't enjoyed himself this much in a long time. Most of the time his 'clients', he refused to call them Johns for obvious reasons, were sort of the quick and dirty kind. A fast blow job, or a back seat fuck, nothing like this. Nothing with fancy hotels and nervous small talk.

It'd been a long time since he felt that protective instinct he'd long buried try to surface again. Somehow, though, Rodney brought it out of him. He wanted to soothe Rodney's nervous jitters, let him know that everything would be okay. It was obviously the guy's first time with a hooker, maybe even with a guy.

Rodney didn't have movie star good looks, that was for sure, but he wasn't bad looking. More, he had that sort of personality that sucked you in; half-arrogant ass and half-clueless geek. With really, really blue eyes. John found it oddly... attractive.

He could tell that some of Rodney's nervousness was returning. When the elevator doors closed and Rodney pushed the button for the forty-sixth floor, John took a step into Rodney’s personal space. Rodney didn’t seem to like that, but he didn’t object. So John took another step, bringing their bodies flush together. He bent forward and nibbled at Rodney's earlobe before whispering, “Don't worry. I'm a sure thing."

Rodney groaned and suddenly John found himself pushed up against the wall with Rodney's mouth closing in. John turned away quickly, cheeks flushing. “No kissing."

“Huh?" Rodney's eyes were dazed, and he blinked in confusion.

“Sorry," John said, moving his hands over Rodney's chest, rubbing peaked nipples through the expensive shirt. “Anything but that. It's just a rule I have."

“Oh." Rodney's eyes dimmed in disappoint for a moment. “All right."

Then the elevators dinged open and Rodney led them to a door at the end of the hall.

“Wow." John whistled at the size of the room. “This is a pretty big place for one guy." It was the size of an apartment. A _big_ apartment. There was a 42" plasma TV in the living room, the curving edge of a kitchen John bet was just as expensively appointed disappearing around the corner. And that was just the stuff he could see from the _foyer_. “Two bedrooms?"

“Oh, well, yes. I'm using one as an office." Rodney pulled off his suit jacket and threw his tie down on the sofa.

“Couldn't you just have used the living room?"

“Well," Rodney paused, looking thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose I could have. But why? I can afford the extra room, and that way I have somewhere to relax besides my bedroom."

John shook his head. He doubted Rodney ever relaxed. It seemed like the guy was always going at least 200 mph. Or at least his brain seemed to be going for speed, if nothing else. He smiled at the thought.

“Uh, so... “ Rodney the clueless geek was back. 

John took pity on him. “Bedroom or right here?" He wanted Rodney to be comfortable.

Rodney appeared to be mulling over the answer, so John took the initiative and slid to his knees right there.

“Oh!" Rodney huffed as John reached for the button of his pants. “Wait! Uhm -- “ Rodney groaned when John rubbed his hand over the bulge in Rodney's shorts.

“Wait for what, Rodney?"

“I just... I mean... Would you be more comfortable in the bedroom? Or... uhm, what kinds of things do you like?" Rodney gushed the words out all in one breath.

John wormed his hand into the slit of Rodney's boxers and squeezed his cock. “I like ferris wheels, college football, and anything that goes more than 200 miles per hour." He laughed softly then as he remembered his earlier description of Rodney, something slotting together in his mind as he thought of his attraction to this client. It was another thing he wasn't going to let himself think about. Another deviation from his normal routine.

He stroked Rodney while he pulled a condom from his jeans pocket, rolling it fast and efficiently down Rodney's erection. Then he took Rodney into his mouth.

Rodney groaned, long and low, his fingers tangling themselves in John's hair. Normally he hated that, hated when a client tried to force him into a rhythm he didn't like, but Rodney wasn't doing anything but holding on. His fingers flexed against John's scalp but they didn't lead or pull at his hair. They were just _there_. John figured that was okay, so he quickened his pace, wanting to make it good for Rodney. One hand wrapped around the base of Rodney's shaft, stroking the parts he couldn't swallow.

He was good, and Rodney wasn't overly large, but he was longer than most and John couldn't take him completely. John's own cock was hard, the image of Rodney's long shaft impaling him turning him on more than he'd expected. He wasn't usually into the sex. It was a means to an end. Sure, he liked sex, who didn't? But it was rare for a client to arouse him like this.

“John, Jesus," Rodney murmured. John glanced up, lips wrapped around the head of Rodney's cock, to find Rodney's intense blue gaze staring down at him.

The sight made John groan as he licked at the tip, teasing Rodney's slit through thin latex. Rodney's hips stuttered forward then stopped. “Sorry, John, sorry," Rodney apologized and John pulled off, lips popping as he broke the suction.

“Don't apologize." He stared at Rodney's cock as he continued to stroke it. Then, he looked up through his lashes, eyes wide. It was a look he'd perfected a long time ago, guaranteed to arouse. Not that Rodney looked like he needed any help with that. “Want to fuck my face?" John wasn't sure why he was offering; it was another one of those things he wasn't particularly fond of. The look on Rodney's face, a mixture of innocence and hot, dirty arousal made John glad he had, though. “Just don't go more than halfway. You're too big for me and I wouldn't want to ruin the experience by choking."

Rodney laughed, then blushed, something John was quickly finding endearing. “You... you wouldn't mind?"

John just shook his head and opened his mouth.

Rodney's dick slid in smoothly, Rodney's hands still tangled in his hair, actively holding him still. It didn’t bother John, particularly since Rodney pulled out and pushed in again, slowly. Too slowly. John tried to encourage him with hard suction and lots of tongue, but Rodney was still way too gentle. John wanted Rodney to enjoy himself, wanted to _feel_ Rodney losing control. He knew, after the soft apologies and the careful way Rodney hadn't controlled his rhythm earlier, that Rodney wouldn't hurt him.

So, he grabbed onto Rodney's hips and pulled, urging him faster and harder until Rodney finally gave in and began to fuck in earnest.

 _Christ_ , that was better. John had to palm himself, groaning as Rodney fucked his face. He didn't allow this kind of aggressiveness from his clients often, but the desperation in Rodney's stuttering thrusts was such a turn on. Another few minutes and Rodney was coming, John swallowing around him, trying to make it last.

Rodney collapsed onto the soft carpet beside him even as John fell to his back, opening his jeans and pulling himself free. He groaned as he fisted himself, fast and hard, wanting to come more at that moment than he could ever remember wanting. Finally, the orgasm burst through him, making his back arch and his thigh muscles cord as his hips left the floor.

Rodney sighed contentedly beside him. “Maybe we should have gone to the bedroom after all. It'd be more comfortable."

“Don't worry, we'll get there," John laughed, a little breathless. “After all, we've got all night."


	3. Chapter 3

Rodney woke with his muscles pleasantly sore and a solid warmth pressed against his side. John was sleeping deeply, his hair a messy tuft atop his head. Rodney couldn't resist reaching up and running his fingers through it. Even in his sleep, John's mouth tilted in a now familiar half-smile.

He disentangled himself gently and headed for the shower, trying hard not to think of what the rest of his week was going to be like. There were even more ridiculous fund raisers for him to attend and he was most definitely not looking forward to it.

After the shower he ordered breakfast, so hungry he felt faint. Not knowing what John liked he ordered one of everything and even risked getting a carafe of orange juice. He grabbed the printout he'd made on the results Radek had sent the previous night and ensconced himself in the living room. John walked in, sleepy and ridiculously adorable in his pin-stripe boxers.

“I'll get it." John yawned, and before Rodney could suggest he grab a bathrobe, opened the door. “Oh, hi." Rodney couldn't tell whether John was embarrassed or not, but the waiters didn't seem to mind. There were two because Rodney had ordered so much food that it required two carts. John raised an eyebrow in question. “Hungry?"

“Haha, very funny." Rodney signed the bill, adding a nice tip before shooing the waiters out. “I wasn't sure what you liked." He shrugged, not even sure why he'd been so concerned with picking out food John would enjoy, “So, I got one of everything."

“Jeez, that must've cost a fortune," John observed,. Picking up a pancake, he folded it over before taking a bite.

“It's not like I can't afford it." Rodney spooned out a plate of scrambled eggs, adding some bacon and a couple of spoonfuls of hash browns before he retook his seat on the sofa.

“Yeah, I can see that." John grabbed the juice and poured himself a glass. “Want some?"

“Yes, because I'd like to die an agonizing death. Thank you."

“Excuse me?" John faltered, looking at Rodney as if he'd suddenly gone crazy.

“I'm allergic to citrus in that it makes me _die_."

“Oh." John frowned. “Then why did you order it?"

“I told you. I wasn't sure what you'd like."

John stared at him for a moment, long enough to make Rodney blush and look away. He concentrated on his food instead, ignoring the feel of John's eyes on him.

“Can I have part of the paper?" John asked, stuffing the rest of the pancake into his mouth.

“Oh. Yes. Yes, of course." Rodney pushed the paper across the coffee table.

“Thanks," John said, wiping his hands on his shorts before reaching for the offered paper. “Got a pen?"

“What? Are you going to do the crossword?" Rodney asked, surprised

“Nah." John folded the paper to the op-ed section, expertly smoothing it out. “I'm more of a numbers kind of guy."

Rodney's cell phone rang as John started on the sudoku puzzle. Rodney watched, impressed, as John filled in each box after only a few seconds of concentration. “Hello?"

“Rodney?" Elizabeth's tinny voice came through the receiver.

“Yes, well, who else would be answering my phone?"

“I just wanted to make sure you made it back all right," she said in her carefully neutral tone.

“You mean you wanted to check on Simon's precious car," Rodney shot back.

“That, too," Elizabeth laughed. “Seriously, though, I wanted to remind you about dinner tonight."

Rodney groaned. “Why do you need me there again?" he whined. “O'Neill doesn't even like me. And don't even get me started on Dr. Jackson."

“You know why we need you." Elizabeth was using her 'patient' voice again. “You're going to be the Head of Science if this project goes through."

“When. When this project goes through." They had to approve the project. Rodney knew they would approve the project.

“Right. When this project goes through." He could practically hear the smile in Elizabeth's voice. “Anyway, you know how O'Neill is. He wants to have complete confidence in all the senior staff before he makes any decisions. He made it perfectly clear to me that tonight was about getting to know us, not discussing the science or the possible benefits of the project."

“And again I ask, why do I have to be there?" All O’Neill needed to know were his credentials and they were impeccable.

“Because, Rodney," Elizabeth's tone was serious. “You're the only one O'Neill feels is questionable. He knows you’re brilliant. He's not so sure you're... stable. His words, not mine," she quickly added before Rodney could cut in.

“This is ridiculous!" Rodney stood, arms flailing as he yelled into the phone. “Last time I checked, O'Neill didn't have a degree in pop psychology. And even if he did, what the hell does it matter? You said yourself that he knows I'm brilliant. You know you can't do this without me." Rodney's voice got quiet toward the end of his rant. He couldn't imagine being banned from the project. Would O'Neill really do that? He sat back down abruptly, the color draining from his cheeks. “What do I need to do?"

“Show him that you're not a complete workaholic. He's worried that you're going to stroke out within the first six months. And frankly, I think he might be right." Elizabeth sighed. “You need to figure out how to connect with something other than science, Rodney."

“And how do you propose I do that?" Rodney shouted, jumping up from his seat again. “What's that saying? You can't teach an old dog new tricks?"

“Rodney, you have to learn to relax. At the very least you have to show O'Neill that it's _possible_ ," Elizabeth said. “Come to dinner. Don't spend the entire night discussing work. Bring a date! That way you're guaranteed to at least talk about something other than the project, since she won't have clearance."

“A date?" Rodney repeated, glancing around the room as if it would provide the answers. His eyes caught on the ruffled mop of John's hair, still bent over his puzzle. “Huh. All right." He hung up without saying goodbye, then dropped back onto the couch.

John finally looked up. Each box was filled with a neat numeral. The correct numeral. “Hey."

“All right." Rodney rubbed his hands together. “I'm in town for another five days. During this time I will need a date, one might even say an escort if you will, to several fund raisers and other events. It has come to my attention over the past twelve hours or so that you're not completely brain dead. Also, you're very attractive."

John's brow rose and his head cocked to one side. “Thank you."

“So, how much for the the entire five days."

“You want me to stay the week?"

“Five days."

“Okay. So, you want me to stay – here, with you – for five days?" John asked again.

“Yes. Well, not just stay here. You'll have to attend those ridiculously boring parties and dinners and things." Rodney gestured broadly with his hands.

“Okay." John looked around the luxurious suite. “So, five days. $7,500."

“What? Is this what they're calling the 'new math' now? Because five nights times $1,000 is only $5,000."

“Except you want the days as well as the nights. And parties and stuff." John shrugged. “You'll probably also have to provide the wardrobe for that, by the way." He looked pointedly down at himself. “Unless you want me going to your pricey functions looking like this."

“Yes, yes. I figured that out all on my own, thank you," Rodney said. “Fine. $6,000 is my final offer. Plus money to dress you up like a real boy."

“Done," John said.

“Ha!" Rodney said, triumphant. “I so would have paid $7,500."

John grinned lazily. “Yeah? I would've stayed for $5,000."

~~

John figured the easiest thing to do was to walk down to Union Square. He could get a couple of nice suits and treat himself to a few things he hadn't had in a while.

The first store he went to was a bust. They weren't exactly rude, but John could tell that they didn't believe he had the money to even buy a tie. He snorted when a haughty salesman asked him for the third time if there was anything he could help John find. 

Then he left.

A little fed up, he decided to spend some time in the Sony Playstation store at the Metreon, playing some of the flight simulation games they had on display. He splurged, too pissed to care that he should be hoarding the money, and bought a console and a few games. All in all, he spent less than $400 of the $1,000 Rodney had given him for clothes.

After lunch he found a smaller, independent Men's Wear store on the bottom level of the mall. He bought three suits, some nice button-up shirts and a variety of other things., not sure exactly what kinds of 'events' Rodney would require he attend. Some nicely tailored trousers and a couple of sports jackets. He thought about buying a tux, but figured that he could always rent one, if needed. He didn’t think he would, though. Rodney didn’t seem like the kind of guy to wear a tux unless there was literally no other choice.

By the time he got back to the hotel he was exhausted. Not wanting to attract too much attention, John hurried through the lobby and back up to Rodney's room. The phone was ringing when he got there and he rushed to pick it up.

“Hello?"

“What are you doing answering the phone?"

John's brow furrowed. “What are you doing calling me?"

“I just wanted to make sure you got everything you needed for tonight."

“Yeah, I got it. Couple of suits, some other stuff. It's a suit night, right? I didn't get a tux?"

“No, no, a suit is fine. A suit is great," Rodney said. “So, no problems, then? Had enough for everything you needed?"

“Sure," John shrugged, placing the phone between his shoulder and ear while he reached to pull his sneakers off. “Though, I have to warn you I didn't just get the necessities."

“What does that mean?"

John had to stifle a laugh at the worried tone in Rodney's voice. “Don't worry. Just some entertainment."

“Entertainment?" Rodney's voice rose an octave. “What kind of entertainment? You didn’t get hookers for your _self_ did you? Isn’t that kind of unethical? And bizarre?"

John didn't bother hiding his chuckle this time. “Nothing illegal. I promise." He eyed the gigantic TV in the living room, and smiled. “You'll see when you get home."

“No, I'll see after dinner. I won't have time to come up to the room beforehand. Things are crazy here. These idiots can't even find their own asses without my supervision," Rodney said, and John could hear the exasperation in his voice. “Meet me in the lobby at six."

It wasn’t a request, but John doubted Rodney made many of those. “Sure." 

“Good. Good." John could tell Rodney's mind was already switching onto another track. “I'll see you later. And stop answering the phone!"

John laughed, hanging up without saying goodbye since Rodney was already gone. He started to arrange his bags, looking through them for his Sony purchases when the phone rang again. He picked it up absently, as he pulled the game console free of it's packaging. “Hello?"

“I told you not to answer the phone!"

John threw back his head and laughed. “Then stop calling me!"

He heard Rodney chuckle just before the phone went dead again.

John was still laughing as he dropped the receiver back in its cradle. Rodney McKay was definitely not what John had expected. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon with the Xbox, setting a few high scores. He couldn't wait to show Rodney later. He had a feeling that Rodney would appreciate it just as much as John did.

A few hours before the appointed meeting time, John took the time for a long bath, a luxury he wasn't normally privy to. A few years ago he might've forgone the bath, but after living with the closet his landlord called a shower stall for the past two years, the thought of a hot, relaxing bath was too good to pass up. He used his new razor to shave off his afternoon stubble and slipped into his new suit. It was a black three-button with a silk collar, a black dress shirt and tie to go beneath. It might have been a bit of overkill, but John liked the way it had looked in the store.

Afterwards, he spent a few minutes in front of the mirror, just looking at himself. He couldn't remember the last time he'd looked like this. The last time he'd _felt_ like this. It left him feeling a little... hollowed out, the image of himself in a dress uniform superimposing itself on the image in the mirror.

He almost walked out then. Almost said fuck it all and left Rodney to find some other poor bastard to be his Cinder-fucking-ella. John wondered for a moment if that was what this was all about. If Rodney had some kind of Fairy Godmother complex or something. What the hell else would he be doing spending this kind of money on a street walker?

But then he remembered the sarcastic smirk and the clueless babbling and John knew there was no way that Rodney had planned any of this, even subconsciously.

So, he sucked it up, slapped on some aftershave and headed down to the lobby.


	4. Chapter 4

They'd rented some lab space for the week, and Rodney had been holed up at his work station for most of the day. They hadn't brought much of the Ancient technology with them, just a few hand held devices that they could lock up safely during the night, but still it gave Rodney something to do this week other than attend dinner parties and fund raisers.

By the time Rodney checked the clock it was already a quarter past five. He changed at the lab, his suit only marginally rumpled, and then headed back to the hotel. Since his rental was still at Elizabeth's and Simon had picked up his car early that morning, Rodney just called a cab.

The lobby was full when he got there but he didn't spot John. Annoyed, he started toward the bay of house phones to call up to the room when he heard someone clearing there throat.

“Yes? What? I'm very late," he snapped before turning around completely.

“Yeah. About fifteen minutes late," John drawled.

Shocked by sudden and immediate arousal, Rodney stuttered. “W-what? Yes. Sorry. You look... “ John was looking him up and down and Rodney tried hard not to blush. He knew he didn't look half as appealing as John did tonight. “Well, you certainly clean up nicely. I'll give you that."

“Thanks." That annoyingly sexy half-smile was becoming a little too familiar. “Shall we go?" John asked, gesturing toward the front doors.

“Hmm?" Rodney knew he was staring, but John really did look amazing. The black suit emphasized every attribute that had had Rodney salivating the night before, and his clean-shaven jaw gave Rodney the urge to lean forward and take a bite, just to see how smooth it really was. “Oh. Yes. Yes. Let's go. I've got a cab waiting."

Chez Maman wasn't all that far and John made appreciative noises when the cab finally stopped. “Wow."

“What?" Rodney asked as he tossed a few bills at the cab driver.

“I'm just surprised." John shrugged. “I guess I was expecting something fancier."

Rodney's brows drew together as he stared up at the restaurant's facade. “Looks pretty fancy to me."

“Yeah, but this place serves burgers. Not that that's all they serve, but... “ John shrugged again. “I just thought, you know, the way you described all these fund raisers that it'd be somewhere we'd be having escargot not french fries."

Rodney smirked. “Yes, well, this is exactly the type of place I'd expect O'Neill to choose. And it's not a fund raiser tonight. It's a 'getting to know you' dinner." Rodney's mouth pursed in small moue of distaste as he explained. He shook his head then pressed a hand to the small of John's back, leading him into the restaurant. “Come on. We're already late."

It turned out that General O'Neill had rented out the back room. It wasn't a large room, but there were only six of them, so they fit nicely. Rodney was glad that Elizabeth had brought Simon along. Not that they got on particularly well, but he didn't feel as ridiculous bringing John when Elizabeth had a date as well.

“Elizabeth, Simon, General O'Neill, Dr. Jackson." Rodney made the introductions. “This is my friend, John, uh... “ Rodney's whole face flushed when he realized he didn't even know John's last name.

“Sheppard. John Sheppard." John was standing stiff, his back unusually straight. In his peripheral vision, Rodney noticed John staring intently at General O'Neill. “Sir."

O'Neill was wearing one of his uniforms. Not the fancy thing he wore to most of the fund raisers but still obviously labeling him as US Military. Not that Rodney's introduction wouldn't have clued John in anyway.

Even as Rodney wondered what the problem was, his hand strayed to John's back, hoping to relax him. “Yes, uh, sorry we’re late," he said, directing John to the nearest empty chair and taking the seat beside him. “I forgot the time."

Great. He was supposed to be showing O’Neill that he had a life, not that he had some gorgeous hunk waiting at home for him while he slaved away over the newest Ancient tech. The way the general raised an eyebrow spoke volumes even Rodney could understand.

“It's nice to meet you," O'Neill said, nodding at John. “You can call me Jack. And this is Daniel."

John nodded stiffly and Rodney was really beginning to think that this was a huge mistake.

“Yes, it's very nice to meet you," Elizabeth said, her tone belying her curiosity. “How long have you known Rodney?"

John shrugged. “A while."

Rodney wanted to thump his head against the table. He should've realized that they would need a story. “We ran into each other at, uh, the market. I was buying some snacks, you know, for my room, and, uh -- “

“You're really not a good liar, Rodney." Shaking his head with an amused grin, John – to Rodney's complete and utter horror -- placed a hand atop Rodney's on the table. “We met at a club his first night here."

Rodney blushed all the way up to his remaining hair follicles. “John!"

“Hey, it's no big deal," John said, squeezing his hand. “People do it all the time. That's kind of what clubs are for. Meeting people. Having a good time."

“You," Dr. Jackson said, leaning forward and pushing his glasses back up as if he had to study Rodney more closely. “Went to a club?"

“Hey!" Rodney said with feeling. “I do get out on occasion."

“Well, that's nice to know, Dr. McKay," O'Neill said in his lazy drawl.

When Rodney looked up, Elizabeth was beaming at him. Huh. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

~~

Of all the fucking luck. John couldn't believe he was sitting across the table from a USAF General. Jesus. At least it wasn't one he'd met before.

He took a sort of perverse pleasure in flaunting his relationship with Rodney in front of the General. Not that O'Neill knew the true extent of the relationship, of course, but John delighted in touching Rodney at every opportunity, leaning in a little too close to whisper in Rodney's ear, their shoulders brushing. Generally making Rodney, and sometimes even the woman introduced as Elizabeth, blush.

Memories assaulted him as they chatted about nothing through the appetizers. He'd thought the flashback he'd had at the hotel was bad, but John hadn't thought about some of this shit in years. Now he felt as if it were slapping him in the face.

He could still hear Mitch's voice over the radio. Could still remember the fear and the panic that he would be too late, then coming back with nothing but Mitch's dog tags...

John had known that he was in trouble. That he'd disobeyed orders. He thought it would be worth the risk. It had been. At least he'd known for sure. At least he'd tried.

“So, what do you do for a living John?" Daniel asked, and John could feel the panic practically _vibrating_ off Rodney's body.

Wanting to put him at ease, John didn’t pay a lot of attention when he said, “I'm a pilot." It was his usual answer. He had been one, after all. He knew the lingo, had the attitude, and it was easy enough to make people believe the lie.

Most people, anyway.

“Really?" O'Neill -- _General_ O’Neill, and John knew he’d never be able to think of the man as ‘Jack’ -- said. “Now that's interesting."

“Commercial stuff." John said, trying not to swallow audibly. “Sort of contract work, really." It hadn't escaped John's notice that O'Neill had caught his slip earlier. He hated that he'd automatically stiffened, that he'd capped his sentence with a 'sir' when he'd first realized O'Neill's rank.

“Then we have something in common," O'Neill smiled.

“I doubt that, sir," John said, trying to unclench his jaw.

“Oh, I don’t know. What branch?" O'Neill asked, casually. Like he already knew the answer.

Beside him, Rodney immediately started spluttering. “Excuse me?"

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them he said, “Air Force."

“ _Excuse me?_ " Rodney repeated, eyes going wide with surprise.

O’Neill just nodded, “I thought I recognized a fellow flyboy.".

“Not anymore, sir. I was discharged a few years back," John said. His face felt hot, and he hoped he wasn’t that flushed. He could feel the curiosity level rising in the room and all he wanted to do was get the hell out of there. Rodney's hand on his thigh eased the tension only slightly.

Elizabeth finally broke the silence. “Well, shall we order dessert?"

“Good idea, honey," Simon spoke up, trying to turn the conversation away from what was obviously a touchy subject.

John gave them all a half-smile and nodded. He said, “Yeah, Rodney's got a thing for chocolate," then laughed when Rodney blushed. The evening reluctantly continued on, even though he could feel O'Neill's stare every once in a while.

An hour later and they were alone in a cab and John could finally relax.

“You never told me you were in the US Military," Rodney said quietly.

“Because in the thirty-six hours we've known each other we've grown so close," John countered, feeling slightly guilty when Rodney flinched at his sarcasm.

“Yes, well." Rodney shrugged. “Sorry if this evening was uncomfortable for you," Rodney's hand was back on his thigh, and John felt the warmth of it all the way to his toes, “but you really helped me out with O'Neill. At least he doesn't think I spend all day _and_ all night at the lab."

“You're welcome." John would much rather discuss Rodney's deficiencies than his own past. “Why do you spend so much time working anyway? I mean, sure, your work is important, but, I mean, don't you ever have any fun?"

Rodney took his hand away, and John shivered at the sudden cold. “I had fun last night."

John smiled. “Yeah." He leaned over, lips brushing the shell of Rodney's ear and making him shudder. “And we'll have fun again tonight, I'm sure." Rodney turned to him, blue eyes wide, pupils dilated as he stared at John's lips. For the first time in a long time, John wanted to kiss somebody. He leaned back and cleared his throat instead. “Hey, so, why don't you take tomorrow off?"

Rodney shook his head. “What?" He sounded like John had asked him to turn the sky orange.

“Take tomorrow off. We can rent a couple of videos, play some games, maybe go out for dinner."

“I don't take days off." Rodney looked bewildered, and John had to forcibly keep himself from kissing the look off his face.

“I _know_ ," John said. “That's kind of the point."

“Oh."

John figured that he could convince Rodney without too much trouble once they were back in their room, so he stayed quiet the rest of the cab ride and the long, slow trip up to the penthouse.

“When's the next fund raiser?" John asked, loosening his tie and tossing it onto the back of the sofa on his way to the bedroom.

“Day after tomorrow. It's some ridiculous sports event," Rodney said. “They've rented out a box in the stadium or something."

“Really? Cool." John was already naked by the time Rodney followed him, suit jacket laying limp over one arm.

“So we don't have anything planned for tomorrow?" John asked, falling to his knees and reaching for Rodney's belt buckle.

“Uh... Huh?"

John smirked. “No plans for tomorrow? You can take the day off?" Rodney was already hard. John gave him a couple of strokes anyway before reaching for the condom.

“Off?"

John laughed. Rodney was so easy.

He rolled the condom on, then slicked it with some lube. He took a few minutes to prepare himself, laying back on the bed, legs spread wide while Rodney stared transfixed as his fingers appeared and disappeared by turns.

“You want me on my knees?" he asked, conversationally.

Rodney groaned.

“I take that as a yes?" John started to turn but Rodney's hand on his hip stopped him.

“No, I want... want to see your face." Rodney said, voice a little ragged around the edges.

“All right," John said, hand wrapped around the base of Rodney's cock as he guided him in.

He was thick and hot and John had to close his eyes as Rodney slid the rest of the way in. “John," Rodney groaned, and John had to arch and move, his body already demanding more.

John's own cock was hard, the tip red and weeping as Rodney fucked him. He cried out when Rodney hit his prostate, ass clenching, unwilling to let go each time Rodney pulled out only to plunge back in with a grunt. Harder and faster, and Rodney was practically hyperventilating, but it was good, so good. John's hands were urging Rodney on, John's voice whispering naughty words and sweet promises as Rodney's rhythm broke and he felt the hot pulse of Rodney's shaft, warmth spurting into the condom.

John reached down, fisting himself while he could still feel Rodney's orgasm shuddering through him. Two strokes and he was crying out, coming all over his hand, his come mixing with their combined sweat as they collapsed together.

“So, tomorrow?" John reminded him.

“Yes, yes." Rodney's hands fluttered weakly. “Anything you want."

John smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

The moonlight slanted in, lighting up John's face and naked back. It reflected off the whiteness of John's pillow creating a kind of halo that softened all his features. He looked so... relaxed, so _beautiful_ , that Rodney's breath literally caught in his throat.

“So, what happened?" For once in his life Rodney wished he'd learned to be tactful, wished he hadn't been the one to put that painful grimace on John's face. But he didn't know anything but the raw bluntness he'd always practiced. And he wanted to _know_ , damn it.

John heaved a put upon sigh. “You mean, what's a nice guy like me doing turning tricks on a downtown street corner?"

Rodney nodded, one hand tracing random patterns on John's back.

“How did you get to be where you are?" John countered.

“I'm a genius," Rodney shrugged. “I got my first doctorate when I was sixteen, my second six months later, and the last the following year." The sheet slipped down the slope of John's spine, and Rodney pushed it further until he could just see the sleek curve of John's ass. “The US government recruited me pretty much minutes afterward. I worked for them a few years, then branched out on my own. Made a few million on some interesting patents, and then I got a call from Elizabeth."

“And now you work for USAF?" John's voice sounded strange, not exactly bitter, but it lacked his usual easy manner.

“No. I work for Elizabeth," Rodney corrected. “And sometimes we work with the government."

John nodded, eyeing Rodney warily. He let out a breath, placing his head back on the pillow. “My father was a marine. He wanted me to be one, too." The silence stretched, and maybe that was the only explanation John was going to give. It wasn’t really an explanation at all, but before Rodney could point that out, John added, “I wanted to fly." 

The very lack of yearning in his voice told Rodney exactly how powerful that ‘want’ had been. Like his own ‘want’ to learn science, to devour everything he could in his endless search for more, for better, for understanding.

He wondered what it felt like to lose everything.

“I met Mitch on my tour in Afghanistan. He was... he wasn't my first. But... “ John took a shaky breath. “He meant a lot to me. We were careful. Discreet. But we were there for over a year and our CO figured it out. I'm still not sure how." John's voice was soft, his expression distant. Without thinking, Rodney shifted closer.

“He didn't have proof, so they couldn't accuse either of us of breaking regs. But then…" John paused, and Rodney almost wished he hadn't asked. His eyes looked terrible, haunted with shadows and pain. “Mitch got shot down. I went after him, and they ordered me back. Said that the risk was too high, that Mitch was probably already dead. But all I could hear was Mitch's voice calling out a mayday." John’s expression slowly cleared, pulling back behind walls. “He was dead before I could get to him."

“I'm sorry." Rodney said, voice strangled.

“I was dishonorably discharged six weeks later," John said, laughing bitterly. “They never said, of course, but I think they were glad I had disobeyed orders. That I'd given them an excuse to get rid of another queer without having to go against DADT."

“But how -- ?" Rodney knew he should quit, should let John stop there, but he still wanted to know how John ended up a _hooker_.

Another bitter laugh. “My father disowned me. I started drinking. A lot. I guess I thought it was a weird kind of revenge to make my living... " John didn't have to finish the sentence for Rodney to understand. _Doing what they thought I was, before._ “I'm clean now, though, sober. I was never really an alcoholic, I guess; I can take a drink now and then without relapsing, anyway. I think I was just.“ His hand came up, waving at nothing.

Rodney pulled John against him, laying his head on Rodney's shoulder. He wasn't sure if this was comforting to John, but it made Rodney feel better. Judging from John's soft sigh, maybe it wasn't exactly hurting him, either.

“My parents hated me." Rodney broke the silence with a painful revelation of his own. He thought it was only fair that John hear his own horror stories. Besides, for the first time in a long while, he wanted to. “I think from the moment I was born, actually."

John didn't say a word, he just let Rodney continue talking, but the arm around Rodney's middle tightened slightly. 

“Of course," Rodney continued, “they hated each other even more. The only thing they agreed on was that it was a lot of trouble having a genius in the family. You had to have tutors and money for tuition to special schools… All of that. It didn’t help that I’ve never been very, ah, _pleasant_ to be around, or so I've been told. Though that could have something to do with how often I heard my parents wishing aloud that I'd never been born."

“Jesus, Rodney." John swore, and inexplicably Rodney felt better.

“I had Jeannie, though. My sister. She was three years younger, and she kind of looked up to me." Rodney smiled distantly. “That was nice."

“They still around?" John's breath whispered across his chest.

“My parents are dead." Rodney swore he heard a muffled noise from John that had no other translation but ‘thank god’. “I haven't seen Jeannie in over a year." It hurt to admit that. It aways did, but with the room quiet and still around him, giving a stranger secrets he rarely gave his friends, it hurt even more.

“Why?"

“We had a fight," Rodney said, his chin tilting automatically in defense. “She's smart. Almost as smart as me. She was headed for big things, good things. And then that... that _English_ major got a hold of her. And suddenly she's Susie Homemaker. “

John blinked, lashes brushing over Rodney’s shoulder. “You fought over your sister's _boyfriend?"_

“Her husband," Rodney corrected. “I... She has a baby now, too. A daughter. She sent me a birth announcement."

“And you still haven't made up with her?"

“Have you made up with your father?" Rodney countered.

John was silent and Rodney figured that was answer enough.

~~

“Oh, of course," Rodney said, though John could tell his sarcasm was just for show. Rodney flipped through the video cartridges, Doom III, ESPN NFL Football, Flight Academy, and Air Force Delta. He saw Rodney pause when he picked up the last, and John knew that he wanted to ask. “It was either that or Black Hawk Down." John shook his head; too many fucking memories. He reached for the two cartridges beneath the morning's paper and tossed them at Rodney. “I got Jedi Starfighter and Jedi Academy, too."

“Oh, please! There were so many things wrong with those movies I can't even begin to _explain_ ," Rodney said, exasperated.

“You can make your own lightsaber," John sing-songed.

“Oh?" Rodney sat up a little straighter and John smiled to himself. “That might be slightly interesting."

They spent the morning taking turns, and occasionally playing together when the game allowed it. He even got Rodney to play NFL Football with him. John didn't think he'd laughed like that in a long time. He had a feeling that Rodney hadn't either.

“What should we order for lunch?" Rodney asked, stomach rumbling sometime around one.

“Why don't we go out?" John glanced out the bay of windows, the day looked gorgeous, a typical sun-bright blustery day in San Francisco. “We could go down to the Wharf. See some sights, get some seafood."

“Yes, because nobody likes to put citrus on seafood," Rodney said.

“Oh, right." John frowned. “That must be a real bitch."

“Thank you for that highly succinct yet totally unsolicited opinion."

“How about Ghiradelli Square?" John said, ignoring Rodney's comment. “We could have lunch, check out the Maritime Museum and pick up some chocolate on the way back." John waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Rodney laughed. “You know, I'm not actually as obsessed with chocolate as you think I am."

They ended up going to Ghiradelli's. The Maritime Museum wasn't huge, but it was kind of interesting. Rodney seemed to like all the engineering crap they explained, and John thought the ships were cool. They had lunch at a hot dog stand, which Rodney complained _loudly_ about, then proceeded to inhale three hot dogs almost at once.

They did some shopping, taking their time as they browsed a couple of different bookstores and a few of the cheesy tourist shops that were always so crowded downtown. Later, they ended up on a bench overlooking the water. It was chilly with the ocean breeze coming in, so John leaned a little closer gleaning heat off Rodney's warm bulk. Rodney surprised him by reaching into one of their shopping bags and pulling out a wrapped package.

“Uh, this one's for you," Rodney said, shoving the package at him.

John blinked. “It is? Why?"

Rodney shrugged, not looking at him.

John carefully unwrapped the package, heart slamming against his chest when he realized what it was. “A first edition War and Peace?"

“You said it was your favorite."

“Yeah, but I didn't think you were actually listening," John said, awed. “A first edition. Jesus." John opened the book to the title page, fingers skimming over the delicate paper carefully. He had the sudden ridiculous urge to hug Rodney. Instead he handed the book back, and then shifted so that he could lay across the bench with his head in Rodney's lap. “Read to me?"

“What?" Rodney sputtered, looking around. “John, are you crazy?"

“Rodney, this is _San Francisco_. Nobody's going to look twice at us." John argued, shifting to get comfortable and smiling when Rodney groaned under his breath.

Rodney huffed, but didn't argue further. They spent a nice leisurely hour sitting in the sun, Rodney's fingers occasionally combing through John's hair as he read aloud. For once John didn't feel anything but relaxed and... happy. It felt amazingly good to just be there with Rodney.

When it was over, they headed back to the hotel making a quick stop in the Ghiradelli chocolate shop. John picked up a jar of chocolate syrup and added it to the counter in front of Rodney. John loved the hot flush that spread from Rodney's cheeks down to his neck and chest because he knew exactly what the other man was thinking.

They ordered room service for dinner. John got the steak and lobster, figuring that this would be as good a chance as any for him to get some high-end seafood. And Rodney got the prime rib. Dinner lasted for hours as they talked and talked. John was surprised that he didn't feel more uncomfortable around Rodney after sharing their weird late night intimacy from before. He hadn't talked to anyone about his discharge _ever_ , and he'd definitely never spoken about Mitch before.

But he'd told Rodney. John didn't doubt that Rodney understood, or that he felt a sort of outrage and grief by proxy for John. It was strange and wonderful having someone's support again. He didn’t want to wonder how it would feel to have to give it all up at the end of the week.

“So, you ready for dessert?" John held up the jar of chocolate sauce and smiled.

“Huh? Oh!" Rodney looked adorable wide-eyed and blushing, though John would never tell him that. And cute as he looked, John could also tell how turned on Rodney was. He could see the outline of Rodney's pointed nipples even from across the dining room table.

John gave Rodney his best come-hither look and then turned toward the bedroom without looking back. Rodney followed almost immediately, already shucking his clothes as he walked through the door. John laughed, placing the chocolate on the night table before doing the same. When they were both naked, John pushed Rodney down onto his back, then straddled him.

He dipped one long finger into the jar, and brought it to Rodney's lips. If he hadn't already been hard, John would've had an instant erection at Rodney’s heartfelt groan as he sucked on John's finger. Rodney pulsed between his thighs, and John rocked a little, giving both their cocks just a small amount of much needed friction.

John painted Rodney's nipples a deep rich brown before lowering his mouth to clean them off. The taste of bittersweet chocolate mixed with Rodney's sweaty skin, creating a unique aphrodisiac for John. He repeated the process on Rodney's pulse point, and in wide streaks across his chest and belly. In between his own tastes, John kept dipping a finger in, offering them for Rodney’s increasingly desperate and lascivious mouth.

Rodney was panting and rock hard beneath him. “John, I want -- “

“What, Rodney?"

“Want you inside me," Rodney said, and John's cock throbbed in anticipation.

“Are you sure?"

“ _Please_." Rodney sounded so earnestly desperate that John was already reaching for the condom before the whimper died out.

For the first time in a long time, John felt clumsy and uncoordinated. He fumbled the condom and then had trouble ripping open the package. Cursing, he finally got it rolled on when he looked down to see Rodney's intense gaze on his face.

Christ, John had never wanted to kiss anyone more in his entire life; not even Amy Matthews his freshman year of high school, when he'd had the unarguably hugest crush in the world. He slicked up his fingers instead and pushed into tight wet heat, the sound of Rodney's harsh breathing spurring him on.

He took it slow, unsure how long it had been for Rodney, and not wanting to hurt him. It was still agony for him . John wanted inside _now_. But he was careful, so careful, waiting until he could get three fingers in without any trouble before pulling out and positioning himself.

“Yes, yes, come on. Hurry," Rodney moaned, and then John was _there_. The crown of his shaft popped in, and they both groaned. John had to pause to get himself back under control. He started to thrust shallowly, in and out, pushing in further each time.

It felt amazing. He didn’t get much call to do this, not when most clients wanted control regardless of who was on top, but here, and now, with Rodney was better than anything John could remember. He knew he was speeding up, couldn’t help it, not with Rodney’s broken moans urging him on—and then, almost too fast, his balls were pushing up against Rodney's ass. “Rodney," John breathed because he was all the way in, balls deep, and Rodney was flushed and panting and _beautiful_ beneath him.

John wrapped his hand around Rodney's dick, stroking him off while he set up a fast rhythm. Neither one of them was going to last long. Rodney made the best noises, sexy and incoherent and deep, especially whenever John hit his sweet spot. That made it easy to find the right angle, the right height, thrusting in deeper each time because god, it was so _good_. He could do this for hours just to hear Rodney make those noises, feel him tight and hot and wanting around John’s cock. He _wanted_ to go for hours, to please Rodney the way he rarely ever wanted with a client. Hell, with _anyone_.

Then Rodney's cock was pulsing, shooting in John's hand and John's world went white as Rodney's ass clenched around him. It was too much, and too soon, and so good that John came, body shuddering so hard he felt like he was falling apart.

“Fuck!"


	6. Chapter 6

Rodney woke in the middle of the night. His body was deliciously sore, but his mind was restless. In a matter of weeks they could be mounting an expedition to another _galaxy_ ; of course he was nervous. Who wouldn't be? But excited, too. He couldn't imagine the amount of Ancient technology that waited for them.

John slept beside him, stretched out and breathing peacefully. Rodney cupped his cheek lightly, careful not to wake him, as he studied the lax features. All the worry lines that always seemed to crinkle the sun bronzed skin around John's eyes were smoothed out in sleep. He traced the outline of John's lips, fighting the urge to go against John's wishes and kiss him.

Sighing, Rodney slipped out of bed. 

He tried to play one of the games John had bought, but it wasn't enough to stop his mind from racing. Ever since he'd told John about Jeannie, Rodney hadn't been able to stop thinking about her or his childhood. It was true that Jeannie had been one of the few bright spots in his early life. He was beginning to feel guiltier and guiltier that he hadn't spoken to her in over a year, especially now that Elizabeth was so close to getting the funding they'd need to launch the expedition. 

And that really pissed him off.

She was the one who'd made the mistake. She was the one throwing away her life. Why should he be the one to apologize? Jeannie had taken the one thing they had in common, their intelligence, their love for physics, and thrown it in Rodney's face.

The jet he was flying on screen crashed. Rodney was almost frustrated enough to throw the controller across the room, but stopped himself. John was still asleep. He really, really didn’t want to wake John.

Since the games weren’t helping, and there was no way Rodney could get back to sleep yet, he called downstairs to the desk and asked for the concierge. It didn't take much to get his request approved and soon he was throwing on a shirt and a pair of slacks. Rodney thought about leaving a note for John but didn't. He wouldn’t be gone that long. 

He pulled the blanket up around John's shoulders before heading downstairs.

The room was empty when he got there, the lights dim. He took a seat on the cushioned bench, his thoughts tracking back to long days spent concentrating on his posture and calculating the perfect curve to curl his fingers. A familiar rush skittered up his spine as he lifted the cover. He traced the ivory keys lightly, letting the cool smoothness soothe him.

He did a quick succession of scales, his fingers remembering the movements without any difficulty. Bach might have been more appropriate, maybe Handel, but given the way his thoughts were crashing around him, Rodney went straight for Ravel's _Bolero_. It was probably the most famous crescendo piece in history and Rodney needed the release of something fast, and loud, and all consuming. His fingers flew over the keys, caressing ivory, finessing the music free; racing just as lightning quick as his mind was wont to do. The piece was fifteen minutes long, longer if he played both parts of the duet composition. 

He did all of it. Twice.

By the time he was through a second recital he was sweating and his fingers were starting to cramp. He grimaced, hating the reminder that he was older and far less able to play at the technical level he'd once had. Of course, that probably had more to do with the fact that he hadn't played since he was twelve.

“Holding out on me, Rodney?"

Rodney jerked his gaze up at the amused query. John was leaning languidly against the wall a few feet away, watching intently.

“How long have you been there?" Rodney's voice was hoarse, as if he'd been screaming along with the thunder of notes he'd just pounded out.

“Long enough," John said, taking a few ambling steps forward. When he was finally within reach he pushed Rodney just far enough back that he could squeeze between him and the piano. The keys jangled discordantly as he sat on them. “You okay?"

“This is a _grand piano_ ," Rodney said, aghast at John’s callous disregard for such a fine instrument.

John lifted his sock-covered feet so that they were resting on the bench, just brushing the outside of Rodney's thighs. “I didn't ask what type of instrument you've got," John smirked. “I asked if you were okay."

Rodney sighed, closing his eyes and leaning in until John's hands were in his hair and his cheek was pressed warmly against John's belly. “I haven't played since I was twelve."

“Wow. Color me impressed." John's voice was quiet, sort of lulling.

“I was thinking about Jeannie and I... I couldn't sleep." He shrugged against John, moving closer.

“I noticed."

Rodney was waiting for John to ask about Jeannie or the piano or _something_. He didn’t. All he did was sit there, gently sifting through Rodney's hair. Eventually the silence got to be too much; that was always and forever Rodney’s downfall. He couldn’t stand silence, even the peaceful kind like this. So he just… started talking.

“I just wanted the best for her. She was throwing away her life!" It was easy to remember that anger, although it drained quickly. “Well. So maybe I was a little... she was the only family I had. She was so smart. She loved physics! She loved... She loved me."

Rodney hadn't realized why he'd been so hurt by Jeannie's decision before.

“I bet she still does," John said and then pressed a kiss to the top of Rodney's head. Rodney felt that kiss all the way down to his toes. It warmed him, but he felt a little breathless, too; that one kiss was more intimate than anything else in the last few days. More real.

“If Elizabeth's funding comes through and this project is approved it... it could be a very long time before I see her again," Rodney said.

“Then maybe you should make sure you see her before you go."

“Yes, maybe," Rodney blushed, aware that he wasn’t just leaning on John but _clinging_ to John, arms tightening around his waist. He had the absurd urge to ask John to go with him to see Jeannie. He had a feeling she'd like him.

 

They stayed like that for most of the night, wrapped around each other in the dim light of the empty room.

~~

“Holy shit, this is amazing!" John was grinning like a loon. He'd expected to go to some boring high brow sports function like polo or dog racing. But this... this was awesome. This was only the second annual Icer Air show, but John had missed the first and hadn't even realized the second was being held this week.

It was even bigger this year, better than what John had heard about last year. The event itself was at the AT&T Park stadium, and Elizabeth had rented out the reception area of the Club Level King Street room. It was a great view, though John wouldn't have minded getting seats outside, a little closer to the action. They were just starting the qualifying rounds when he and Rodney had arrived and John watched as jumper after jumper flew off the slope at incredible speeds, tumbling and twirling midair before landing with a flourish.

“Did you see that?" John asked, excited.

“Yeah," Rodney smiled beside him.

“Man, he was really _flying_." John heard the yearning in his own voice and tried to dial it back a little. For a brief second he felt Rodney's hand on the small of his back, and he leaned into it.

“You want a beer?" Rodney asked, nodding toward the bar and buffet table. “Or, um. Anything?"

Reluctantly, John pulled himself back from the glass. “Sure," he said. Rodney was still cute when he was being clueless and flustered, and that was attraction enough.

Except Rodney waved him off, looking smug and almost fond. “No, no. You stay and watch. I'll grab us something."

“Okay." John didn't argue, he really wanted to keep track of the qualifiers. “Thanks."

A few minutes later he felt a presence beside him and turned, smiling, thinking it was Rodney. He was surprised to find General O'Neill standing beside him instead.

“Good morning, sir." John said, automatically straightening his spine.

“I told you, call me Jack." 

John didn't answer, his lips thinning into a neutral line.

“Enjoying the festivities?"

“Yes, sir. Thank you."

“ _Jack_ ," the General said again. John watched O'Neill's reflection in the glass, saw the way the General was studying him.

“Was there something you wanted, sir?"

O'Neill sighed. “I can see this is going to take some work."

John glanced around, hoping that Rodney would return soon. No luck; Elizabeth had him cornered, talking earnestly while Rodney stuffed a laden cracker into his mouth. He pursed his lips, trying not to grimace. “I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

“Exactly," O'Neill nodded, as if John had said something profound. Then, “I looked up your service record."

“Of course, you did." Of course. John mentally cursed himself, feeling raw and exposed and hating it. Two years out and they could still fucking make him feel like shit.

“You were good. By all accounts you were an excellent pilot."

“Still am," John said. True, he hadn’t flown since Afghanistan, but if the General was going to play it this way, fine.

“I knew your CO," O'Neill continued, his voice deceptively casual. “Sumner was a good man. A little by the book, maybe, but a good man."

John kept his eyes on the slopes. His reflection showed a horrible imitation of a smile.

“Well. Maybe more than a little." O’Neill bumped his shoulder, surprising John into looking just as the General let his gaze wander over to Rodney and then back.

John could feel the flush creeping up his neck. He wasn't sure if it was anger or embarrassment or both. Before he could say anything, O'Neill clapped a hand to his shoulder, patting him awkwardly. 

“In case you're wondering, I've been known to disobey an order or two in my time. Occasionally… lots of orders."

“Sure, you have." The sarcasm felt like acid on John's tongue.

“Oh, trust him," Dr. Jackson said, blinking back and forth at the two of them. He carried two drinks. “He has, and still does, actually. Hello, did I interrupt something?"

“No." John shook his head. He didn't want to think about what O'Neill was saying, what he meant. It was all too much. The qualifying rounds were over and they were starting the wakeboarding demonstrations, but John had lost interest. “I was just leaving." He nodded at them both, heading toward the buffet, toward Rodney.

“Oh, come on, Rodney! You expect me to believe that John's a prostitute?" Elizabeth laughed as she said it.

"Yes! I'm telling you I picked him up on a street corner!" Rodney's hushed whisper sounded annoyed, but all John heard was the echo of Elizabeth's laugh and Rodney's agreement.

He felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. Abruptly he spun on his heel and headed for the exit. He heard Rodney calling after him but he didn't stop. He couldn't. How much humiliation could one person take?

He caught a cab back to the hotel and was packing his bags when Rodney rushed in. “John!"

“I want my money."

“What?" Rodney was breathing heavily, as if he'd run all the way back from the stadium.

“My money." John repeated through gritted teeth. He headed out to the living room to pack his Xbox back into its packaging.

“What are you doing?" Rodney looked more confused than John had ever seen him. As if his brilliant mind couldn't process that fact that John was _angry_.

“I'm leaving." John threw down the connector cables, too frustrated to concentrate. “You know what, keep the damn thing!" he shouted, holding out his hand. “Just give me my fucking money."

“John, I'm sorry. Look, Elizabeth was asking all sorts of questions, worried about espionage and spies. She thought it was too much of a coincidence, us meeting at a club my first night. I wasn't prepared. I suck at lying! I just told her the truth." Rodney rushed the words out, but John was too angry to listen.

“Give me my money, McKay. I'm not going to ask again."

“Fine!" Rodney said, apparently angry now, too. He pulled out his wallet and stuffed a handful of bills into John's hand. “Count it. It's all there." Then Rodney stomped out of the room, as if _he_ were the one offended.

John just stood there, staring at the blank forty-six inch screen that he and Rodney had spent all of yesterday playing stupid video games on. Then he threw the money down and dropped his bag. He didn't want any reminders of this week. He took the clothes on his back and walked out the door.


	7. Chapter 7

Rodney paced in his room, angry and upset, feeling stupidly betrayed even though he _knew_ he was the one that had made the mistake. John was gone, leaving. He expected the front door to slam but the quiet click that accompanied John's exit was somehow worse.

He ran into the living room, wanting to see with his own eyes that John had left. And… he had. He'd left the money, messy on the floor, and his bag lying next to it. Something in Rodney twisted and before he knew it he found himself racing out the door, heart hammering in his chest.

John was still there, waiting in front of the elevator. Rodney almost stumbled as the relief overwhelmed him. He stopped beside him. John didn't even turn, didn't acknowledge him in any way.

“Don't go," Rodney said. John didn't answer, but he did push the elevator call button again. Rodney didn't know what he was supposed to say to stop him, so he did what he always did and tried to bludgeon him into compliance with an avalanche of words. “I'm sorry. And you should count yourself lucky right there, because you know that I never say sorry. Or at least you should since you’ve spent more than five minutes in my company. I never apologize, usually because I’m almost always right, but I wasn’t, okay? Not this time. I know I shouldn’t have said—that, or anything. It’s just that I'm not good at these things. And I told you I'm a _terrible_ liar, and I wasn't prepared! She just _asked_ me and I—I mean we've been having such a... _I've_ been having such a good time this week that I haven't even thought about... I mean... John, please." He reached out to tug lightly at John's sleeve. “Stay."

The elevator dinged as it opened and Rodney waited tensely for John to pull away and step inside. The doors swished closed again, gleaming and golden, and John was still, amazingly, there with him.

“Don't do that again," John said, to the doors.

Rodney shook his head violently. “No, I promise."

“I know what I am. I don't need you to remind me." John turned then and the look in his eyes nearly brought Rodney to his knees. It was hard and cold, but somehow broken at the same time. Rodney wanted to haul him close and never let go. But he just turned and let John lead him back to the room instead.

When they got back inside, John went straight back to the bag he'd dropped and lifted it to his shoulder. He looked around, as if he wasn't sure where to put it, or what he should do now.

“John, I'm sorry." Rodney tried again. “I... I'll make it up to you." John shrugged, which Rodney couldn't interpret. He hoped it meant something good. “Why don't you put your clothes back in the bedroom?" he suggested, and when John disappeared down the hall, he picked up the phone and made a few calls.

The afternoon was already turning into twilight when Rodney's plans had all been confirmed. John was standing in the doorway, watching him silently.

“Are you hungry?" Rodney asked, reaching for the room service menu. John shrugged again and Rodney wished he could go back and redo today all over again.

He ordered the seafood platter for John, crab legs, lobster, shrimp and scallops, and a New York strip steak for himself. Because it was a Saturday night, the order was going to take at least an hour, so Rodney somehow convinced John to join him in the jet tub. Actually it wasn't hard. John had suddenly become completely compliant, and it was worrying Rodney.

The water swirled around them, steam rising to curl the ends of Rodney's hair and flatten out John's dark mop. Rodney tugged John until he was sitting between Rodney's legs and Rodney could wrap his arms tight around John's middle. “Yell at me."

“What?"

“Yell at me," Rodney said again.

“You already apologized."

“I know." Rodney let his fingers wander, kneading the tense muscles of John's belly. “But you're still upset. I want... I wish I hadn’t done that, hadn't messed it up for you." Rodney reached for the soap, slicking up his hands so that they'd glide over John's chest and nipples smoothly. “You were having such a good time."

John sighed, his body sinking further into Rodney's embrace. “Not so much."

“What? But–you loved the crazy suicidal people!" Rodney argued. “You looked like you wanted to be the one out there, trying to kill yourself on the slopes."

“After you left to get the drinks... General O'Neill came to have a little chat," John said, shrugging again.

“Stop that!" Rodney slapped his shoulder. “I don't know what that means."

“What?" John turned his head, confusion in his eyes.

“Oh, never mind." Rodney gestured for John to turn around again. “Just tell me what happened."

It was several minutes before John said anything again. Rodney was tempted to check to see if he'd fallen asleep. Then, “He looked up my service record."

“Oh."

“Yeah." John nodded, this time when he turned his head it was just so that he could lay his cheek against Rodney's shoulder. “You know the really stupid part?" Rodney shook his head even though John couldn't see him. “I like him, even though I really, really don't want to. He seems like a good guy. And it made me feel _embarrassed_ that he'd seen my dishonorable discharge. And that made me angry."

“And that's when you came looking for me." Rodney's gut churned, hating even more that he'd hurt John that way.

“Yeah."

“God, John, I -- “

“Don't apologize anymore," John interrupted him. “I just... just want to stop thinking about it."

But John had gone looking for him. Had gone to Rodney when he was feeling angry and vulnerable and it made Rodney feel... well, he wasn't sure. But it made him want to make everything better.

~~

John felt the light press of Rodney's lips on his nape and shivered. Rodney's lips were soft and warm against his skin. He continued to trail kisses all along John's shoulders, both of them, then pressed his crookedly tempting mouth down John's spine until he reached the water line. John was boneless in Rodney's arms. It felt like Rodney was trying to kiss every square inch of him.

When Rodney reached around to brush his palms over John's nipples, they were already hard. Rodney took his time teasing John, just letting his fingers breeze over the sensitive nubs until John was moaning and arching into the touch. He could feel Rodney's erection pressing against the small of his back. Letting himself bob lightly up and down in the water, John rubbed the rigid shaft and was rewarded with a hitch in Rodney's breathing.

Rodney retaliated by closing his hands around John’s cock, mapping out every wrinkle, every vein, and driving John crazy with need. His muscles spasmed and he clenched his jaw against the urge to let go. Rodney's voice was buzzing in his ear, his breath tickling the short hairs on the back of John's neck.

“Go on. Want you to come." Rodney's tongue licked at the tiny strip of skin just below John's ear lobe, and his hand tightened on John's shaft.

John threw his head back against Rodney's shoulder, their cheeks pressed together, the scratch of stubble only adding to the sensation of Rodney milking the climax from his dick. John felt Rodney thrusting against him, his cock sliding in and out of the cleft of his ass. Within seconds Rodney was trembling behind him and their come was mixing, combining in the swirling, churning bubbles created by the tub's jets.

John had a brief flash that this wasn't the safest sex he'd ever had. No condoms. No penetration, either, but it still wasn’t good. Except he couldn't bring himself to care. Irrational as it seemed, John couldn't imagine Rodney ever hurting him, even unintentionally. Rodney didn't seem the kind of guy to have indiscriminate sex, and it was obvious that John was his first hustler.

In his profession though, John couldn't be too careful, and he knew that. So, even though the damage was done, he suggested they get out and dry themselves off. Rodney readily agreed, both of them dried and dressed just in time to hear the doorbell chime. John hurried to answer and sign for their dinner, glad that Rodney had ordered something even when John had been so noncommittal earlier.

It wasn't until they sat down at the dining table that John realized how normal everything seemed. He hadn't even thought twice about signing the check for their room. As if he had any right to it. What was worse was that Rodney hadn't seemed to mind. It was as if he, too, took for granted John's 'rightness' in Rodney's world.

John tried to keep the conversation light during dinner. He didn't want to think about anything, not his time with the Air Force, being here with Rodney, or what the hell he was going to do when the week was over. They only had two more days. Two more fucking days and then John would be back out on Fremont looking for another trick.

He wished there was some way to keep it all. Some way to keep Rodney, keep... this. But John knew that was just a pathetic pipe dream. Hell, he'd given up everything decent or good the moment he'd been grounded and started drinking instead of trying to fix his broken life. He wasn't Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty or any one of those other fairytale princesses that always got the happily ever after.

But, god, he could feel the ache of loss already.

“Hey," Rodney's voice was laced with concern. “You okay?"

John shook his head, and attempted one of his lazy 'everything's all right with the world' smiles. “Just tired."

Rodney's expression didn't change much, but he allowed John the pretense. “Yeah, okay. It's been a long day."

They loaded the cart with their dirty dishes and pushed it out into the hall. Rodney said that he was tired too, so John followed him into bed, only a little surprised when he found himself wrapped up tightly in Rodney’s arms.

“So, where are you taking me tomorrow?" John asked, just because he wasn't ready to close his eyes and face the demons in his sleep yet.

“It's a surprise." 

John smiled sincerely this time, hearing the smug happiness in Rodney's voice. 

“How do you know I'll like it?"

“I know."

“We've only known each other a few days. You really think you know me that well?" John said the words teasingly, knowing that Rodney knew him better than anyone had in a long time, even if Rodney wasn’t aware of it.

“Oh, please. You're an open book," Rodney said, dropping a kiss on John's shoulder.

John didn't know how to answer that so he didn't. He just listened to Rodney's breathing even out, waited for his hands to loosen their hold, so he could twist in Rodney's embrace until they were facing each other. Rodney's lashes were curled dark and long against his cheeks as he slept. John wanted to reach out and brush them with his fingertips, knowing they'd be soft and fine just like the hair on Rodney's head.

Carefully, not wanting to wake Rodney, he let himself feel the feathery softness of his lashes. After that it was easy to rationalize the way his fingers slid down to Rodney’s lips, tracing them with the pad of his forefinger. Easier still to just lean forward, pressing a soft, close-mouthed kiss to Rodney's lips. “Love you," he said, so softly he barely heard it himself. And Jesus, he _did_. Which was a miracle in and of itself. Heaven and hell all rolled together because now that he knew what it was like, how it felt, it would only hurt a hundred times more when Rodney left.

John closed his eyes, settled his cheek on Rodney's chest, and let Rodney's heartbeat lull him to a dreamless sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Rodney stuffed a piece of dry toast into his mouth while he shuffled through the papers on his table. He swallowed the bite he'd taken, then gulped his coffee down. “Ow, ow, ow." He fanned at his burned tongue as he stuffed the last report into the sleeve of his briefcase, then headed for the bedroom. Resisting the urge to lean down and kiss John awake, Rodney shook him by the shoulder instead.

Rodney's lips still tingled from the brief kiss John had given him last night. He'd lain awake for hours after John had finally fallen asleep, replaying the soft words John had spoken. When he'd woken to the feel of John's lips on his, it had taken all his control not to react. Rodney knew he was awful with people, but John wasn’t like most people. And when John had said those words, Rodney had wanted so badly to tighten his grip on John's waist and pull him closer. He only just stopped himself. 

He wasn't sure what he was going to do about John's revelation, if anything. Rodney knew what he _wanted_ to do, of course, but he was intelligent enough and realistic enough to know the infeasibility of the whole thing. Even if he could somehow convince John, and himself, that they could make some type of relationship work, Rodney was leaving for another _galaxy_ in just a few weeks. 

He still remembered the exhilaration they'd all shared when Dr. Jackson had translated the text that held the address to Atlantis. Eight symbols! A whole galaxy away. They had all sat in stunned silence for about thirty seconds before everyone erupted in cheers. Rodney hadn't even thought twice before signing up with Elizabeth to see the whole project through. Jeannie had crossed his mind briefly, even then, but he couldn't fight the lure of a whole new galaxy with technology the likes of which they'd never seen before.

John blinked groggily awake, and Rodney couldn't resist ruffling the tuft of bed head that John sported. “Breakfast is on the table. I've got to go the lab for a few hours, but I'll be back by one o'clock, so be ready. All right?" John nodded, apparently too sleepy to argue with any of Rodney's directives, then flopped back into bed. “One o'clock," Rodney said again, just to be sure it got through to John's sleep addled brain. He made a mental note to call later, too.

He spent the morning going over the schematics for the new device Radek had sent overnight delivery. Rodney knew it could have waited until he returned to the Antarctic base, but he was glad that Radek had sent it. It gave him something to think about besides John and what was going to happen to them after tomorrow. Elizabeth was meeting with the General tonight.

It scared Rodney that he wasn't even sure what he wanted the outcome to be anymore.

Anyway. Even with the schematics, Rodney wasn't sure what the device had been used for. It was cylindrical, about the size of a pen, but slightly thicker. The information they'd been able to translate mentioned something about mapping. Rodney theorized that it might have been the Ancients' version of a compass. He'd have to see if he could get General O'Neill to turn it on for him.

Frustrated, he turned the device over and over in his palm, wishing for the thousandth time that he had the ATA gene. Not being able to turn the devices on was a huge deterrent in his research. It could never be too soon, in Rodney's opinion, for Carson to get a workable prototype together for his gene therapy.

He called John at half past ten and was grumpily reminded that John was an adult and could keep his appointments without a reminder from his _mother_. For once, Rodney didn't grump back, mostly because he still felt bad about yesterday and figured he could give John some slack.

“So, you're leaving early today." 

Rodney jumped at the sound of Elizabeth's voice, fumbling the pen-like thing before catching it between his fingers. He fiddled with it as he watched Elizabeth cross the room.

“Yes, at one o'clock. I'm taking John out," Rodney said, not wanting to explain further. He was a little nervous about his plans, despite what he'd told John. He wanted more than anything to give John a night he'd love, something he'd remember fondly even years from now.

“Rodney," Elizabeth started, then took a seat on the stool beside him. “What exactly are you doing?"

“What do you mean?" Rodney's chin snapped up. “You're the one who told me to get a life, to relax. You're the one worried I was going to overwork myself and stroke out at the first opportunity."

“I know and believe me, I'm glad you're finally taking our concerns to heart. But... do you really see a future here? You said yourself, you picked this guy up on a street corner."

“John. His name is John," Rodney said, angry now.

“Rodney," Elizabeth said pointedly.

“I know." Rodney turned away. He didn’t need the reminders, thanks. Tonight was about giving him lasting memories, too. “Look, it's not like I have a future here with anyone at the moment. If this Atlantis Project goes through, we may never come back. Can't I just enjoy what I've found for now?"

“And what have you found, Rodney?" Elizabeth asked, too much sympathy in her voice to make Rodney feel anything but sad.

 _John_ , Rodney wanted to say, but didn't. Instead he shrugged, rather than answer the question aloud. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to hang onto whatever it was for as long as he could.

 

~~

“Rodney," John said, barely able to get the name out. The cab had dropped them off at the San Carlos airport and they'd followed some guy straight to a waiting Cessna 182 Skylane, the brightly painted words 'Diamond Aviation' splayed across its wings. It wasn't an F-16, but it looked prepped and ready to fly. John couldn't breathe.

“It can't go 200 miles per hour. But it's the best I could do," Rodney said quietly, and John remembered his words from their first night together -- _'I like ferris wheels, college football, and anything that goes more than 200 miles per hour.'_. He was afraid the weird, lurching feeling in his chest was his heart, doing a sort of belly flop into his stomach. 

“I got us tickets to the Oakland and Seattle game tonight, too. They said you couldn't fly if you're certificate wasn't current, which I guess means you had to have gotten it renewed within the last two years. And I wasn't sure you had." John heard Rodney swallow nervously and wanted to reach out and squeeze his shoulder or his hand in reassurance, but he was kind of paralyzed at the moment. “So, I paid extra for a flight instructor to take us. I assume that way you'll be able to fly part way at least, you know, as part of the 'lesson'. We should get there in plenty of time to have dinner, too." Rodney added when John let the silence go on for too long.

“Rodney," John said again, shaking his head. His hands were trembling and he shoved them into his pockets to hide that fact. “Jesus, thank you." John didn't know what else to say, didn't think he _could_ say anything else. His throat felt raw, like every muscle was fighting to keep it from closing up.

It took a little over three and a half hours to make it to Seattle. John took the stick for just under an hour of flight time—and for the first time in years he felt like himself again. Alive. _Real_ , with nothing but darkening blue all around him. They ate at some tiny, hole in the wall Mexican place once they landed. Turned out that Rodney loved spicy food, as long as there was no citrus, he was good to go. John loved watching him eat. It was something that John found himself enjoying since the first day.

Rodney relished his food. It was almost like he took every bite thinking it might be his last so he'd better enjoy it. John really liked that.

The game sucked. Oakland didn't even _score_ , and John actually felt himself getting embarrassed for them. Rodney mumbled something about hockey and real sports, which John ignored, but yeah, he could kind of see Rodney's point after that pathetic showing. Though he would never, _ever_ , admit that to Rodney.

John could tell that he'd surprised Rodney when he'd chosen to sit in the back with him instead of taking the co-pilot's seat. But Rodney didn't argue, and best of all, he didn't ask. He just let John wrap an arm around his waist and lean a head on his shoulder. It was a nice flight back, the bright lights of the Seattle skyline were beautiful as they lifted off but the familiar twinkle of San Francisco made John wish there was some way to drag the night out.

Rodney tipped their pilot and before John knew it they were stepping out of a cab and back into the lobby of the W hotel. They had one more day together before Rodney flew out of town, out of John's life, early the next morning. John wanted to make the most of it, didn't want to waste time puttering around the room or ordering a midnight snack or anything else that would keep them from tangling up together under the sheets.

With that in mind, he gave Rodney a slow, lazy smile, the kind that never failed him, taking Rodney’s hand and leading him to the bedroom. He pushed Rodney's jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Something rolled out of one of Rodney's pockets, which under normal circumstances, John would have ignored. But it was shiny and round and John figured it would be easier to pick it up now then sprain an ankle on it later. So, he reached down and picked it up. “So much for that being sexy. Sorry. Looks like I dropped your pen." 

And suddenly the pen began to buzz and the room lit up with what seemed like a thousand points of light.

“Oh, my _god!_ " Rodney's grip was almost painful around his wrist.

The lights swirled, dividing and coalescing into what John finally realized was their solar system, with Earth burning blue and even brighter than all the others. Then everything _shifted_ , and a second solar system appeared. 

“Cool. Is this one of your inventions?" John asked, and Rodney's hold twisted, making him cry out and drop the pen back into Rodney's open palm. The light show disappeared and John felt unaccountably let down.

“Oh, my god, John!" Rodney said again. The look he gave John was awe-struck and…a little bit envious? It made him want to reach out and tell Rodney that everything would be okay, but before he could do anything, Rodney was spinning away from him, talking a mile a minute and tossing the room looking for the cordless phone.

“Oh my god! Do you know what this means?" Rodney said over and over again.

Exasperated, John flopped onto the bed. So much for his slow, lasting seduction. “No, actually I don't."

“You will," Rodney said. “As soon as Elizabeth gets here with a confidentiality agreement."

“What? Rodney, it's past midnight!" John reminded him.

“She won't care." Rodney was suddenly beside him, strong hands gripping John's biceps and shaking him. “Jesus, John. She won't _care_."


	9. Chapter 9

Rodney called Elizabeth and within the hour she and General O'Neill had arrived. Rodney hadn't expected the General, and John didn't look happy about his arrival either. It was almost two o'clock by then and they were all overtired, but Rodney was still buzzing with the thrill of having seen John's ability.

“So, let's see it." O'Neill raised a brow in their direction.

“Don't you think it prudent he sign the confidentiality agreement first?" Elizabeth piped in.

John just glared. “I think it prudent you tell me what the hell is going on first!"

“John," Rodney said, taking his hand. “Just sign the agreement and we'll explain everything." John still looked hesitant so Rodney squeezed his hand and added, “Trust me, please."

John nodded and signed. “Okay, now spill."

“Okay," Rodney said. “The device you picked up, which by the way -- “ Rodney turned and pointed in Elizabeth's face, saying, “I would not have taken out of the lab if you hadn't distracted me this morning!" before whirling back to John and continuing without missing a beat, “-- is something we call Ancient Technology. There was a race of people that came here ten million or so years ago, and then left. They were advanced beyond anything we've ever seen and we've been studying the bits and pieces they've left behind."

“So, you're saying this is alien?" John asked, incredulous.

“Pretty much," O'Neill broke in, the incredibly casual way he held himself its own kind of warning, “and only a teeny tiny -- " O'Neill held up his fingers about a millimeter apart. “-- percent of people have the ability to use them."

“So I'm in that percent?"

“Apparently," O'Neill nodded. “You want us to confirm that, pick up the device again."

John stared down at it for a long time before reaching to pick it up. Rodney's breath caught as the room lit up again.

“Yup. You're definitely in that teeny tiny percent," O'Neill said.

“John, this is amazing. And you don't even have to concentrate to turn it on, or... or... it just does this when you touch it?" Elizabeth's voice was filled with amazement.

“So, this project you've been talking about, been trying to get funded," John said, looking back at Rodney. “The one that might make it difficult to see Jeannie for awhile... ?"

John trailed off and Rodney flushed at Elizabeth's raised brow. “I didn't tell him anything!"

“Except about your sister," Elizabeth murmured under her breath, but Rodney still heard.

“Yes, well, except that." He sighed. “Yes, John. This thing." Rodney gestured toward the two galaxies swirling around above their heads. “This _is_ the project. We've figured out where the Ancients went when they left." He pointed toward the far right solar system. “And we want to go there."

“To another galaxy?" John whispered, his eyes flitting over the holographic scene above them.

“And, we'd like you to go with us." Elizabeth added, softly.

“I... this is insane!" John said, dropping the device.

“How 'bout you guys give us a minute?" O'Neill nodded toward the bedroom.

Rodney wasn't sure that was such a good idea, knowing how John felt about the General. But John just nodded when Rodney looked to him, so Rodney shrugged. “All right."

Elizabeth didn't waste any time once they were alone. “So, what else did you tell him?"

Rodney slumped onto the bed, rubbing his forehead. “Nothing. We just... talked."

“Rodney, you never just talk." Elizabeth sat beside him. “Nobody knows anything about you. You only told me about Jeannie right after you’d just fought, and that was only because you were drunk!"

“It's just... easier with John," Rodney said, wishing O'Neill hadn't insisted he talk to John alone. Rodney wanted to be there, too, convincing John to go to Atlantis, to go with Rodney.

“Oh, Rodney." 

Elizabeth was his friend, but Rodney hated when she used that tone.

“Do you think he'll join the expedition?" Rodney asked after a while.

“I don't know." Elizabeth shook her head. “I hope so." And even though Rodney knew she wanted John for his gene, he heard the unspoken 'for your sake' at the end of her sentence.

“Yeah." 

~~

“I know you didn't meet Dr. McKay in a club."

John felt sucker punched. It wasn’t unexpected, but damn, O'Neill didn't waste any time. “Yeah?"

“And I don't care. Nobody cares." O'Neill turned to face him head on. His smirk was friendly, inviting John to share the joke. “This project, Atlantis, is more important than anything you could imagine. We're facing things out there -- “ O'Neill made a sort of abortive gesture toward the windows, “ -- that we aren't even remotely prepared for. We need Atlantis and whatever advantage it can give us."

“But you said there were others like me. I'm not the only one." John countered.

“No, you're not." O'Neill picked up the device, and after a minute got it to buzz and light up. The milky way galaxy appeared first and it was several minutes before he could get the other galaxy to display as well. “But so far you're the best."

“So, what? I'd go there, to this other _galaxy_ , and turn things on?" John asked. “What kind of life is that? That's not a career! That's not anything! I'm not a fucking light switch!"

“You want a career? I can give you that, too," O'Neill said. “Major."

John’s heart _paused_ , then took off racing. “That's impossible."

“I told you. This is bigger than one man's prejudice, however sanctioned. And the president knows that. If I tell him we need you, he'll do what needs to do be done."

“The president?" John felt dizzy.

O'Neill nodded.

“I -- I need some time to think about this."

“All right." O'Neill nodded. “You've got twenty-four hours. The project has already received a go. We're flying out to the Antarctic base at 0500 tomorrow to begin preparations."

And just like that, O’Neill and Elizabeth were gone, and he was alone with Rodney. 

“John?" Rodney looked hopeful and scared and John wanted to tell him right then that he'd accept and that they'd be together. A part of John wanted it so badly that he ached. But the other part kept throwing up road blocks, forcing him to think about all the negatives.

Another _galaxy_. Who knew what they'd find, or if they'd ever be able to get back? Sure, the General talked a good game about calling the President – the _President!_ \-- but that could just be a sales pitch to get him onboard. What about DADT? He went that route once, and look what it got him. He wanted to reassure Rodney, but he couldn't. He didn't know whether he would accept or not.

“Rodney, I need time to think." All he could do was tell Rodney what he'd told O'Neill.

“Okay. Okay. That's reasonable," Rodney said, even though he didn't sound as if he believed it. “He told you we're kind of working on a deadline, though, right?"

“Yeah. Look, maybe I should go."

“No! I mean, you don't have to." Rodney’s face was a study in hope and worry.

“No, I didn't... I just need to think. I'll be back. I promise." John was already losing his conviction in the face of Rodney's broken expression, so he turned and fled, hoping Rodney wouldn't follow.

He walked for awhile, thinking about the last few years, and then the last week. He thought about the Air Force and flying. He thought about his dad. He thought about Rodney. Eventually he called a cab and went back to his hovel. The air smelled stale, none of the windows having been opened the week John had been gone. It wasn't a rat trap, but it was nothing compared to the suite he'd been sharing with Rodney.

He opened all the windows and stepped out onto the fire escape. He watched the sun come up and wondered what kind of sunrise they'd have on Atlantis. He hadn't slept all night, but he didn’t feel tired. Or, maybe he was too tired. He couldn't really tell anymore.

Coming back here, to his empty apartment told him at least one thing. He didn't want to say goodbye to Rodney.

He made some calls and fixed himself a sandwich – no gain in letting the food rot -- before going back out to the fire escape to wait. It was noon before Rodney found him. He smiled as Rodney huffed complaint after complaint while he climbed up the rusted fire escape to reach John.

“Did I tell you I hate heights? No? Are you sure?"

John laughed, feeling _good_ for the first time in a long time. “I saved you half my sandwich," John said, not bothering to ask how Rodney had found him. Knowing Rodney he probably hacked into the DMV records to get John's address.

“Hmph," Rodney grumped, but he took the sandwich. “So, O'Neill told me what he offered you."

“Yeah?"

“Yeah. I called him pretty much the moment you walked out the door, and no, I’m not apologizing for that. Is that what you want? I mean, do you want back in the Air Force?"

“Yes," John said without having to think about it.

“Oh." Rodney looked crestfallen, but immediately schooled his expression. “Okay, but that means you're coming to Atlantis, then?"

“Yes," John said again, grinning.

“Okay, uhm, just," Rodney stuttered over his words. He took a deep breath, then quickly rapped out, “I just wanted to tell you, you know, before you rejoined the ever so open-minded US Military, that I, uh, that I love you, and if that'll make you happy, then you should do it."

“Thanks," John said, amusement lacing his voice. “I think I will."

Rodney blinked, taking in John’s relaxed, leaned back pose, and glared. “Well, great. That's just great. I'm glad you find heart-felt confessions I won’t even give my _sister_ so entertaining, _Major_ ," he snapped.

“Lieutenant Colonel, actually," John corrected, smug. “And I, uh, you know. Too. By the way."

“Huh?" Rodney looked so confused, John took pity on him, cupping the back of his neck John leaned in and kissed him. It was just the way John had wanted to kiss him since the first night they'd met. Rodney's lips were soft and warm, and John took his time tasting every inch of Rodney's mouth.

“I called General O'Neill. He said if I wanted it, I'd be reinstated as a Lieutenant Colonel. Last night, the General said that they needed me, and that they'd do whatever necessary to get me. So, I made a few... requests. One of them included amnesty for, well, you."

“Me?" Rodney asked, still looking a little dumbstruck after their kiss. A look John thought he'd like to put on Rodney's face more often.

“O'Neill seemed to think it would be a non-issue. Considering we're going to another galaxy with very little chance of returning, he figured the old rules wouldn't apply for long anyway. But if they do, I get a free pass. I guess he really did mean it when he said he knew the President." John shrugged. He still felt a little dumbfounded that they wanted him so much they’d literally do anything necessary to keep him.

“Are you serious?" Rodney squeaked.

“Yeah, you didn't know he knew the president?" John was surprised.

“No! I mean, yes! I mean, you really asked him about me?"

“Yeah. I mean, if that's... is that okay?" John let his voice trail off, suddenly unsure.

“Is that okay?" Rodney repeated. “So, totally free pass?"

John nodded.

Rodney grinned.

~~

**Epilogue**

They were leaving in less than a week and they only had one last thing to do. Rodney had put it off for last, and might have put it off forever if John hadn't insisted. Besides, John had kind of tricked him. He'd convinced Rodney to take off a few days and show him Canada, pretending to be interested in the places Rodney had grown up. All right, so he might not have been pretending, but still.

Rodney was nervous and his chest felt tight, but John was there and Rodney steeled himself to knock on the door. Rodney had to admit that the house was nice, from the outside at least. It wasn't the run-down disaster he'd pictured. There was even a nice sized garden out front.

“Rodney?" The door opened to show a home equally nice on the inside, the door framing a woman with red-gold hair and wide, wide blue eyes.

Rodney felt John's hand take his, their fingers twining together. “Hi, Jeannie."

“Uh, hi." She looked back and forth from John to Rodney.

“This is John," Rodney said, feeling himself flush. “He's my... “

“Husband," John grinned. He got a kick out of saying it, and said it a _lot_. 

Rodney pretended to hate it, just so John would say it more.

“Your what?"

“Husband." Hesitantly, Rodney held up John’s hand, still intertwined in his own, as well as his own left hand, showing off their rings. Their marriage had been one of the other reasons they'd taken a few days off to visit Canada.

“Okay." Jeannie looked confused and Rodney couldn't blame her.

“I just." Rodney took a deep breath, then plunged on. “I just came to say I'm sorry. And you know, I might be gone for a while, so I thought you should know." John squeezed his hand. It was reassuring enough that Rodney managed a smile. “Also, I wanted to say I love you."

Jeannie's eyes narrowed and she turned to John. “Who is this guy and what did you do with my brother?"

John shrugged, dorky and adorable, and still grinning. “I married him."

THE END.


End file.
